It wasn’t too long ago that I was writing here about looking forward to my 15 days of bliss, remember? 15 days during which the kids would be at camp, the hubby would be at work, and I would finally, oh finally, have some wee bit of time…to myself. Not insane amounts of time, mind you…the kids are at day camp after all, and the hubby works from home one day a week but still…I thought, somehow, that that would be exciting and pleasurable and restful and peaceful.

It has been none of the above.

Why? Because slowly, but surely, my 15 days has been whittled at, snipped at, clipped on one side, bitten on another…and it making me pissy, angry, irritable and sad all at the same time. FIFTEEN FUCKING DAYS out of a WHOLE YEAR, and I cannot get that to myself.

Let’s start with last week, shall we?

Week #1:

Monday: All starts off well, and the kids are off to camp. Oh joy.

Tuesday: Same. Oh joy. Raptures.

Wednesday: The Tech Guru works from home. Joy is a little dampened, for sure, because although he is in his office, he is still…HERE.

Thursday: Everybody back out of the house. Yay.

I feel your pain, kid. I FEEL YOUR PAIN.

Friday: The Tech Guru decides to take the day off. Although I am initially somewhat perturbed at the intrusion into the little solitary time I get, I see this as perhaps a good way for US to have some time together. So, yay, although it’s admittedly a different yay from the “I’m going to be all alone” yay.

So by the end of week 1, its 15 days minus 1, which, for you math-challenged folks, is 14 days, and I’m actually being generous because the Tech Guru DID work from home on Wednesday per usual but that was always going to happen so I can’t really count that as a SURPRISE.

Okay, here we are in week #2:

Monday: Punksin wakes up feeling a little crappy. She goes to camp. Around 12:00, just as I am about to step into a late shower, a counselor calls to say she really isn’t feeling well and wants to be picked up. Having only arrived back home from dropping off Pudding at 9:30, I have had a total of 2 1/2 hours to myself. Gee, I should have thrown a fucking party! I skip the shower, hop into the car sweaty and gross, and go to retrieve my ailing child.

Tuesday: Punksin still feeling sick so, no camp. Pudding decides he doesn’t want to go either and because I’m thrown off-kilter and apparently having trouble getting him and myself together while ministering to Punksin, I cave and let him stay home. I mean, if I have one kid home I might as well have two, so…fuck it.

Wednesday: Tech Guru working from home again. Punksin still home sick. Pudding is the only one who sticks with the program and goes off to camp. Strike another day from Me Time.

Thursday: Both kids finally well and out the door. Sinuses are killing me and I take meds which make me stupid, so after a trip to the recycling center and some online food shopping, I spend what time I have left groggy and on the couch.

Friday: The Tech Guru decides to take another day off. I also have my period so we can’t cavort around the house and make this intrusion into my time somewhat fun, so I’m just my usual annoyed and pissed off self.

Okay, time for the math roundup, yes? We started out with 15 days. Then it turned into 14. Then THIS week, I really got FUCKING SQUAT, except for Thursday, but I have to count Thursday because even though I DID feel like shit… I was alone! But the other 4 days were FUCKED. So now 15 days has become 10.

Do you see why I am a tad bit annoyed right now? Just…a TAD?

You know, I don’t ask for much. I really don’t. I rarely go out, I rarely get time to myself. If I’m even in the shower or the toilet there is someone knocking on the door to ask me something, something that could have waited, something that could have been figured out with a little more resourcefulness. This morning, I got up and was running around getting 2 kids together while the Tech Guru lay in bed reading his Kindle. And it’s not like HE doesn’t deserve time to do that either, because he does, and I know if I ASK he will help. But really? Why is it that I have to ASK? Is it NEWS that we have two kids that are both going to camp? Did I somehow sneak in a baby that he doesn’t know about? He knows they need breakfast and Pudding needs help brushing his teeth and I have to get lunch bags and snack bags and shit together. But I guess because I do this EVERY morning, he thinks it’s all under control. And to some extent it is, because most mornings I do have to do it alone and therefore, like moms everywhere, I make it work. But that doesn’t mean a little offer of help when it’s available wouldn’t be appreciated.

UGH.

So, there we are, 15 days down to 10, and now only 5 days left and even if nothing happens next week and everyone gets the fuck out of here and GOES WHERE THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO GO, I know that I am going to reach the end of the week and somehow feel…cheated. Or at the very least, like nothing happened. Not me getting more rested, not me experiencing the Ahhhh moments, not the house getting cleaner, NOTHING WILL HAVE CHANGED. I will still feel just as stressed and overexposed and in need of more time to myself. Already I am planning NEXT year’s camp schedule, which will be LONGER than 3 weeks or God so help me I will run screaming down the street naked, and y’all know I am only LOOKING for an excuse. ANY FUCKING EXCUSE.

One Response to “The Disintegration of 15 Days”

OHHHH I know the feeling. When my kids were growing up for a good part of it I was a stay at home mom and yes some days it drove me crazy but now that I am working kids out the house I want to be a stay at home wife or girlfriend or something that lets me stay home and the bills get paid. I hate working. even though I love my job…its a catch 22